


Never let go (I made the stars for you)

by LynnDenbaum



Series: lynn's messiest GO oneshots in all of history [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Bible Quotes, Cold, Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), Cuddles, Food mention, He is coldblooded, Hungry kisses, It should have been a 1k oneshot, Kisses, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, No Beta, Oneshot, This has probably been done before, crowley is a snake, exactly one (1), freezing Crowley, i am not good with tags, in the very beginning, it escalated, no edit, tell me to add tags if needed, very shortly, we fall like raphael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 12:15:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20097085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LynnDenbaum/pseuds/LynnDenbaum
Summary: Crowley should most definitely have stayed home.But on the other hand, if he had, thing would still be the same now, and frankly, he liked this particular change.This was supposed to be a 1-2k oneshot about serpents in the winter.I don't know what happened. Suddenly it was... this.Enjoy!





	Never let go (I made the stars for you)

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo guys...  
I really love the headcanon about Crowley being Raphael.  
And I had soooo many thoughts about this.  
So here you go, my dudes. I'll share with you.

_ In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.  
Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep and the spirit of God was hovering over the waters.  
_ _  
_ _ And God said, “Let there be lights in the vault of the sky to separate the day from the night, and let them serve as signs to mark sacred times, and days and years, _ ** ** _ and let them be lights in the vault of the sky to give light on the earth.” And it was so. _

**-Genesis 1 1-2 / 14-15  
  
** _  
_  
So God simply created the stars. Along with the sun and the moon and the earth.  
Just like that.  
Well that was, how the humans imagined it.  
The concept of star-creating was much more complicated and required a lot of fantasy and creativity along with hard ethereal work.  
A treat only few angels possessed.  
A task, that god herself did not bother to handle.  
So it was up to these few angels, to do their very best.  
To create the most vivid and beautiful colours, to shape the most mysterious forms and constellations.  
To give meaning to all of this.  


\---------------------------------  
  
  
Crowley knew that he should have stayed home.

He should have buried himself into the dark velvet sheets and black satin pillows on his elegant designer couch, should have warmed himself up with a hot cup of the quite nice tea blend Aziraphale had gotten him for Christmas last year and just stayed put.

But he didn't.  
Because of course he didn't. When did a demon ever do what they were supposed to anyways?

And he hated being locked up. His temper got the better of him.  
Again.

So Crowley had left the warm and safe apartment building to saunter through the city, meet up with people he hadn't seen in a long time (Well long time for them. For him 10 Years seemed like yesterday.) And get some of these nice wine bottles his angel was so fond of.  
(He ended up having them sent to his apartment instead of carrying them around. A demon who carried his own purchases was unheard of)

He regretted it really fast.

The snow fell onto his fiery red hair (He wore it longer again. You know. Just for style. Not because Aziraphale liked it better that way. Not at all.), covered his shoulders and didn't melt on his face.  
Instead it slowly started concealing his pale features and danced in his eyebrows.  
It coloured the white skinned demon even paler, gave him a haunted look.  
  
It was a beautiful evening, the last light of day setting on the horizon, the soft floating of icy crystals through the air, reflecting the light, glittering, shimmering, glistening on the edges.  
The contrast of the flakes on his blazing hair.  
  
Couples hurried along the sidewalk, holding on to each other, laughing, singing, cuddling. Warm. They were warm.  
They would go back home, eat dinner, get a cup of steaming tea and then go to bed together. Maybe tell each other stories or give a summary of their days. Maybe they would read a book.  
  
For a second the face of Aziraphale with his subtle smug grin hushed trough his mind, the image of him sitting in front of his desk with a book, smiling broadly, when Crowley entered and sending little shivers of joy through the demons body (that hopefully went unnoticed, for he did his best to hide it.) but then it was gone again, leaving nothing but the faint memory of warmth, of heat, of safety in him.  
Crowley scowled.  
His glasses slightly wandering down his nose, as he did.  
  
The hollow structure of warmth wasn’t good enough.

He was a snake. The Serpent of Eden, yes.  
But still a snake.  
And he knew better than being out and about in the cold weather. He knew that his body wouldn't be able to keep its heat up, to keep him moving, to keep him going.

He knew better.

He should have known better.  


And now the sun was gone, the snow fell merciless onto his freezing body and all the little cafés and shops in the area had closed half an hour ago.  
There was nowhere to go.  
Except.

Except he was currently, totally coincidentally in Soho, two streets away from the angels shop.  
From Aziraphales shop.  
From Aziraphale.  
  
Of course Crowley could have miracled himself a Taxi, had he been in his right mind. He could’ve gone straight home to his plants and his blankets and the fireplace, that would miraculously be lit, as soon as he entered the room… But he wasn’t in his right mind.  
Not at all.  
  
He was cold, freezing, and everything he could think about was getting warmth.  
And the only face in his mind when thinking about heightened temperature, was Aziraphales.  
So he did, what seemed the only logical thing to do: He hurried his stiffened pace and tried to reach the bookshop, before his legs gave in beneath him and his blood froze.  
  
Of course Crowley could have had this thought earlier.  
And he probably did.  
But being the demon that he was, he had probably repressed it. Ignored it. Denied it.  
Not wanting to admit his own defeat.  
Not wanting to give in to something so trivial as the weather.  
He was a prideful snake. Always had been.  
And he simply _ refused _ to lose to some frozen water that fell from the clouds.  
  
Well until he did.  
  
  
His stiff limbs carried him exactly until he was 3 feet apart from the door, before his legs finally gave in.  
His blood had run too cold to circulate properly anymore and his muscles wouldn’t respond the way they should. If at all.  
Being partly cold blooded was not a good thing to be in the winter.  
  
With a series of low curses Crowley forced his arms with sheer willpower to work enough to pull himself up the stairs and into a sitting position in front of the wooden door with the sign “closed”.  
  
“Aziraphale!” He tried to call, but his throat had different plans. Instead of the word, only a low hiss escaped his lips.  
“Azira...pha….”  
Again. Nothing.

"...zira…"

A quiet whisper. 

Not even enough to overtune the rustle of the wind in dead leaves on the pavement.  
So close. Dammit.  
Maybe he should just sleep. Crowley thought as dizziness took hold of him and the cold reached his core, slowing down his heartbeat. His head felt heavy, he couldn't feel his legs. A relieving numbness washed over him.

Sleeping didn’t seem like such a bad idea anymore.  
Just sleep until the sun came out again.  
His eyes fluttered shut, his body shifted its weight against the door and his mind drifted away.  
  
Again. Had he been in his right mind, he could have simply miracled himself a heat blanket. Or a Taxi. Or the door open.  
But Crowley was not in his right mind.  
Not at all.  
  
  
\-------------------------------------------  
  
  
His thoughts floated around, he wasn’t sure where exactly he was or what was happening to him or his body, but his head felt light. So very light.  
Impressions passed his mind's eye, sending shivers of memory fragments down his spine.. or rather down his non corporeal equivalent to a spine.  
Returning patterns, returning faces, returning moments.  
And amidst it all a plumb man with whitish blond hair and blue eyes. And he smiled.  
  
Who was that again?

Crowley knew, that this man was someone important to him. Someone, that he really shouldn’t lose the hold on.  
Someone that he would never want to forget.  
_ What is your name?  
_ _  
_ Was it Raphael?  
No. No that didn’t seem right.  
Raphael _ was _ a familiar name, but not the one of this beautiful angel.  
Ezra… Azira…?  
Oh be damned it couldn’t be so hard to remember one single fucking name?!  
Azra… phale?  
  
Aziraphale!  
It was Aziraphale!  
Yes that was his name.  
  
Like the hit of a fist to his face he realized something between the blurring pictures of his past and his angels image.  
  
Aziraphales bookshop. He wanted to reach the bookshop!  
It was important.  
It was cold! He would freeze, He would discorporate!  
Hell would get their hands on him, they would torture him, kill him, never let him return to…  
To Earth.  
Oh how could he have been so foolish! Why?!  
_ Aziraphale I am so sorry. _ _  
  
_

“Oh that’s alright my dear. Just get yourself warm again. I can’t have you freezing on me, now can I?”  
  
Crowley didn’t jerk up. Nor did he stop and think about the situation or the meaning of the other person's statement.  
He didn’t have the strength.  
But he did feel safe, now that he had heard these words. And that meant a lot.  
Slowly his mind faded away again and let him once again fall into deep slumber.  
  
\---------------------------------------------  
  
Aziraphale sighed deeply and put one hand tenderly in the long strands of red hair before him.  
He was lying on his back, the unconscious form of a very cold demon draped over his chest and belly like an extraordinary black and red blanket, because that was how he had managed to carry his friend into the bookshop with the little strength his earthly body possessed, when he had found him in front of his door.  
  
“Really dear”, The angel murmured, “You could have just called. Or something.”  
  
He was a little upset over the drastic irresponsibility of the snake, but that didn’t stop him from gingerly stroking Crowley’s head and softly pushing his blazing hair behind his ear, exposing the interlacing construct that was the demons snake tattoo just beneath his temple and pulling the thick tartan blanket closer around the two of them.  
Crowley needed warmth. And Aziraphale was just all too willing, to provide.  


After a while, Aziraphale had just started to drift off into something like a light slumber, when the demon on top of him began muttering.  
Aziraphale was wide awake almost immediately.  
He didn’t know how much time had passed, but the moon was sending pale light through the windows and reflected from the beds of snow, layering on the windowsill, creating an unreal atmosphere in the quiet bookshop.  
  
First he thought his friend had woken up as well, but when he pushed himself into a more or less sitting position, he noticed, that Crowley’s eyes were still shut tight.  
The bow of his eyelashes softly quivering with the motion of his eyeballs underneath his lids as he dreamt.  
  
“...Zira…”, the redhead mumbled, slightly moving his upper body in a more convenient position.  
Moving on top of Aziraphale, against him like a snake searching for warmth. What, on second thought, probably was exactly, what this was.  
  
“I am right here, dear. Don’t you worry”  
The principality cooed softly while feeling the temperature of Crowley’s exposed neck with his left hand.  
The demon was definitely warmer, than he had been some time before.  
Definitely not freezing to death anymore. A relief.  
  
Just to be safe, the angel miracled another log into the fireplace.  
  
“...Zira… I ma…th stars...f.u.yoou.”  
  
It was a half swallowed mumble from the demons mouth, but the white haired had the sense of this words figured out quite quickly.  
  
_ Aziraphale I made the stars for you.  
_  
Normally Aziraphale would have discarded this as semiconscious muttering.  
Nothing to think about, nothing to worry about. Just a dream, really. Crowley was just dreaming.  
But somehow this …. had caught his attention.  
Because it felt _ familiar. _  
Sure, he and the demon had known each other for 6 Millenia, but this feeling seemed even older.  
It felt like… The beginning, even though Aziraphale couldn’t quite remember it.  
  
What could this mean?  
The train of thought, the angel was trying to get onto, suddenly vanished, disappearing behind a mountain, thick clouds of steam still hovering in the air, when Crowley spoke again:  
  
“...love yoouu...A...zira..”  
  
His heart stopped for a second.  
It wasn’t a figure of speech, the angel could _ literally _ feel his heart skipping a beat, or maybe three, before speeding up its pumping as to make up for it.  
In unison to this a bright red flush crept onto Aziraphales face and deadlocked itself on there, with no chance of going away anytime soon.  
Shaky hands untangled themselves from red wavy hair and went up, to lay themselves on the angels mouth.  
In his chest, right there where his heart tried to win a marathon against itself, a warm and indescribable feeling built up, pressuring against his ribs and his sternum, making him dizzy.  
  
“Crowley…”  
He probably shouldn’t put any weight into this.  
Maybe he had even gotten it wrong? Maybe the demon wanted to tell him, how much he liked plants or his Bentley?  
But he did.  
He put _ all _ the weight into these few words.  
All the weight of the whole world.  
  
“ _ Crowley… _ You…”  
He caught himself and swallowed, what he had wanted to say, when suddenly one of the heavy eyelids of the man sprawled out on top of him slowly opened.  
Crowley stared at Aziraphale for a few seconds, unmovingly, before the second eyelid slid open as well.  
The demons golden eyes locked unblinking onto the angels' and seemed more and more awake with every passing second.  
  
“I “, Crowley hesitated, brow furrowing, “I didn’t die, right?”

The white haired couldn't help but smile at how his friend had swallowed the second D in the word "didn't"  
“No my dear, you quite certainly did not.”  
He replied softly.

"Oh good. Yeah good. Good, good, good."   
He looked around, confused, trying to put the puzzle pieces together, trying to get a hold on where he was….

" ...Are you lying underneath me, angel? Why… why are you..?"  
Crowleys amber eyes glistened softly in the shimmering, dancing light of the fireplace, promising depth, the angel had never noticed before. Not really.  
How could he have never noticed this before?

"Why are you staring like that?"  
Aziraphale wasn’t sure, if he was imagining the slight touch of pink colour on his demons cheeks, or if it was really there.  
But he sure as heaven knew, that he himself was now hot to the tips of his ears.  
The weight on his body, that was Crowley, was nice and now, that he had heard his words, felt the demons body move on top of his, felt the breath on his sensitive skin, smelled the soft aromatic scents in the air around him, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to let go of all of this again.  
Of Crowley again.

It was a very unusual feeling for him, he thought.   
But now that he acknowledged its existence, he realized slowly, that in fact it wasn't.  
He had had this for a long time. He just never let himself really feel it…

This...thought, this… _ everything _ was confusing and a little frightening, if he was honest.  
Aziraphale swallowed hard.

"Well yes I am currently in a position underneath you. You were cold.",  
He stated matter-of-factly in order to distract them both from the second of his friends questions, acutely aware of the fact, that Crowley had made no advances whatsoever to change his position. Or remove himself from the angels chest.

"Oh yeah. Right. I was."  
They just stared into each others eyes, not wanting this moment to pass, not wanting to grow distant again, until Aziraphale softly cleared his throat.

"Would you care for some lovely hot tea, to warm you up?"

"Yeah. Ya.. sure. Tea. Sure. Why not.."

The angel rose into a fully sitting position and smiled softly, when Crowley awkwardly tried to regain enough balance to not fall into his lap and instead sit himself back into the couch.

"Alright then."

\---------------------------------------------

Crowley stared at Aziraphales back, disappearing into the kitchen.  
The cherub had blushed so hard and it was unbelievably beautiful.  
The slight rose colour creeping over his soft and round cheeks, highlighting the clear blue of his wonderful eyes….

_ I love him _

He suddenly realised. Of course he had known before.  
For a long time.  
But this? This was the moment that he first admitted it out loud to himself after his fall.  
Well not exactly out loud. Only in his mind. But still.

It was the first time in forever, that he put a label on this warm feeling that grew in his chest, whenever he thought of all those countless times when he had taken his angel out for lunch.  
The spark that buzzed over his skin, whenever their hands accidentally (or not so accidentally) touched.  
The sensation of height, everytime he smelled Aziraphales scent.

He was a demon. Love wasn't something he had concerned himself with in the last millennia.  
It was a complicated and unnecessary angel and human thing.  
The thing that distinguished a demon from every other life form. They didn't love. They just didn't.  
Except he clearly did.  
  
Stretching out his still numb limbs, Crowley tried to get his systems running again and stand up.  
He was a little shaky, but it didn’t matter.  
His legs were carrying him again.  
Slowly, carefully he strolled over to the kitchen and watched Aziraphale standing in front of the stove.

"Did I do something?"  
Crowley asked, slouching against the doorframe.

"Whatever do you mean?"  
The response came a bit quickly and hastily.  
As if the angel was snapped out of deep thought and didn't have the time to think of a better lie.

"You blushed"  
“I certainly did no such thing…”  
But it didn’t even sound remotely sincere.  
“Well if you must know, you were talking in your sleep.”  
That had Crowley slouch even deeper into himself as he frowned over at his angel.  
“I didn’t”  
“You did.”  
“What was I talking about then?”  
When Aziraphale only shrugged and concentrated on the teapot in front of him, Crowleys frown deepened.  
“Angel?”

The cherub sighed softly, then turned to face his friend.  
“There was a story. Back in heaven. No-one really wanted to tell it, or talk about it, but I overheard things. It was a scandal. A dramatic catastrophe. A fallen Archangel. His name was Raphael.”  
  
Crowleys face showed no expression.  
The demon didn’t even know what to think, what to _ feel _ on the inside. His body was way too confused by the different sensations going through it as to show any feelings on the outside.  
But he nodded at Aziraphale, encouraging him to go on.  
  
“Well, They said he was beautiful. With long hair, burning like the sun. Covered in twinkling stardust. Because he made them. The stars, I mean. And I know, that I was already existent, before he fell, but I don’t remember him at all. It makes me a little sad and it had me thinking.”  
  
“Thinking”, Crowley repeated softly. “wha...What has all of this to do with me?”  
  
“It was what you said. You said ‘I made the stars for you’. That’s what you said. Along other things.”  
The angel blushed again, staring down his kettle on the stove until it finally began whistelling.  
  
“You are. Aren’t you? You did make the stars.”  
The white haired readied two cups of dark, aromatic tea and put them on a wooden tablet, to carry them safely back into the backroom of his bookshop, where his couch stood.  
He added some biscuits as well, just to be safe, and because he was a perfect host and gentleman, as well as to play over the fact, that he was very insecure right now.  
Avoiding the demons gaze, he pushed behind him and didn’t wait for him to follow, before starting to talk again.  
Because Crowley had not.  
He had just stood there, unable to respond to the angels story, to the angels questions.  
Unable to comprehend, what was happening.  
After all these years.  
  
“So, Raphael, why… didn’t you tell me?”  
  
Crowley pushed himself from the doorframe that had given him stability and slowly sauntered in Aziraphales direction.  
“That is not my name, angel.”  
He hesitated, before quietly adding: “Not anymore.”  
  
“But it was, wasn’t it?”  
A slight nod was the response.  
Lying was out of the question now. It wouldn’t do him any good.  
  
Crowley had not imagined this day to ever come, but if he had thought about it, it wouldn’t have gone down like this at all.  
Not like this. This was awkward.  
This was weird. And Aziraphale still didn’t remember, so he didn’t quite know where to start.  
And there was still the realization about his feelings, that he had earlier, but it was all too much right now.  
He couldn’t word any of it.  
  
“Yes” Crowley finally admitted out loud, after some minutes of silence.  
Aziraphale hadn’t moved at all. He stood with his back to Crowley, visibly trembling, trying to hold himself together.  
It was so much new information, so much change. So much.  
  
“So you’re an archangel.”  
  
“I was. I’m a demon, angel. Nothing’s changed. I’m still me. Not an archangel, not an aardvark, just a demon.”  
  
Slowly the principality turned around and looked at the former archangel/now demon.  
Crowleys wavy hair was in disarray, the glasses missing on his nose, his golden eyes piercing his heart with the intensity of little suns of their own.  
Moving something inside him as they always did.  
Maybe it did make sense.  
Maybe this explained the feelings, that he had been denying for the last decades.  
Maybe this was the reason why he couldn’t hate Crowley, as he hated other demonic creatures, as he loathed all those little succubi and incubi and the folks he had seen Crowley with in the past.  
It could explain, why Crowley wasn’t like the others. An Archangel.  
And he had known, that at some point, _ his _ demon had to have been an angel. He had always wondered, if they’d known each other.  
Now the answer was so very close and he was _ terrified. _ _  
_  
“You… said something else.”  
  
“I thought I might have”  
The readheads voice was quiet, insecure, shy.  
His eyes traveled down to Aziraphales chest, as if he was afraid to look at the angel.  
A slight blush forming on his cheeks.  
Beautiful.  
The flamy locks in the moonlight. Touched with glowing silver, like stardust. Even more beautiful.  
The molten gold of Crowleys... Raphaels… but still Crowleys eyes turned a warm amber, as the lightfall differed.  
  
Before he knew, what he was doing, Aziraphale stepped closer.  
And closer. And even closer.  
Until he was standing right in front of the man who had been his friend for millenia and who was so much more right now.  
He took a deep, shuddery breath and softly laid a trembling finger under the demons chin to make him look up.   
Because he needed to _ see _ .  
And he did.  
  
His blue eyes reflected in golden ones, the colours swirled into each other, _ combined _ to something wonderful.  
His breath faltered. Apart from when they had laid on the couch, he had never been so close to Crowleys face before.  
Not ever.  
  
He had never been able to see the complexity of his irises like this.  
It felt like a loss to him.  
So many years...  
  
“You said …. you loved me.”  
Again, the demons face was unreadable.  
He just stared at him unmovingly.  
Then he swallowed and opened his mouth, just to close it again.  
  
He took a few deep breaths and then, cautiously, took Aziraphales hand between his slender fingers and looked down at it.  
Little bolts of lightning seemed to shoot from every inch of touching skin, but it wasn’t unpleasant at all.  
The angel intertwined his fingers with Crowleys almost unconsciously and smiled sheepishly.  
  
Their gazes met again. Gold locked onto blue and became their own orbit, became everything that mattered.  
Slightly parted lips and hot cheeks. Hope and Joy and...  
“I… do. I love you.”

And then their lips met.  
Aziraphale hadn’t even realized, that he had moved towards him, until Crowleys lower lip touched his in a tender brush.  
And then it was over for him.  
  
With a low sigh the angel reached up into his demon’s hair and pulled him closer.  
Pressed his lips desperately against the other’s, until Crowley softly, gingerly, placed his hands on each side of Aziraphales face and rearranged their position. Just slightly so.  
  
He had tilted his head to the left to have better access to his angel’s mouth and _ deepened _ the kiss.  
The wet and hot feeling of Crowley’s tongue inside his mouth had him moan louder. deeper. It was fulfilling in so many ways.  
Kissing this man, this demon, wasn’t just good.  
It was _ divine _ .  
  
Their lips moved against each other, hands searched for something to cling to.  
Hair, shoulders, clothes. Fingers brushed against skin, tenderly caressing every inch of it.  
  
“I love you, too.”  
The angel whispered against Crowleys mouth in a short break between all-consuming kisses.  
“I always have”  
A deep, satisfied growl was his answer, as the demon pulled him in again, pulled his body against his, held onto him like a drowning man.  


  
  
Later, when the sun started to rise in the east Crowley and Aziraphale laid on the angel’s couch again.  
Their bare chests allowing as much skin contact as possible.  
  
“You know,” the cherub murmured, drawing tiny circles on his friend’s… his lover’s chest with his fingers,  
“I love Crowley. Not just Raphael. Especially since I can’t remember him.”  
  
A low hum escaped the former archangels chest.  
“Good.”  
He pressed a kiss into his angel’s hair and sighed lovingly.  
  
It wasn’t perfect.  
But it was exactly how Crowley wanted it to be.  
And he would never give this up again.  
No matter how many questions had to stay unasked this time.  
This was his Eden and he wouldn’t let anyone take it away ever again. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, please let me know somehow.  
If you found something you didn't like, please don't hesitate to constructively criticize me.
> 
> English is not my first language. If you found any grammar and/or spelling mistakes, please let me know!


End file.
